Fenders and Hookah Pipes
by TerraTheMasterful
Summary: Kyle and Cartman make a bet on who can lose his virginity first, Bebe gets replaced as Wendy's BFF, Cartman and Kenny sell weed to raise money, and the town is divided over whether or not to legalize marijuana. Rated M for reasons that soon become obvious
1. Love at First Sight

**This is my first submission on this page. It was inspired by a combination of personal experiences, a very vivid dream, and me and my friends' drug habits. I'm not saying go easy on me or anything like that, but this is more like me justifying this piece's mediocrity. If that makes any sense.**

**Anyway, I don't own any of these characters or places. Not like you would think otherwise. I don't own any of these songs either. Otherwise I'd be filthy rich and getting laid every night. Full list will be posted at the end. I will say that the first song is "Lit Up" by Buckcherry.**

**So enjoy my heartwarming work of extraordinary literary masturbation. In fact, I hope you're masturbating right now.**

**Chapter One – Love at First Sight**

On what would otherwise be a quiet night in a peaceful, rural mountain community in Colorado, high school seniors-to-be gathered at the Marsh residence in joyous, inebriated celebration. The party was intended to honor Stan Marsh's eighteenth birthday. However, many of the students saw it as a last opportunity to party before the start of classes in two days. Nevertheless, everyone there was having a hell of a time.

The center of everyone's attention – aside from the three kegs in the corner of the yard – was the small stage set up along the back fence, where Stan Marsh blasted his electric guitar. With Craig, Token, and his best friend Kyle playing behind him, he belted out a melody to the pleasure of the crowd:

_I'm on a plane, with cocaine  
And yes I'm all lit up again  
Cough up love, and touch up  
Your mama said packin lines is sin_

_And yes I'm all lit up again  
On the couch, in my bed  
And yes I'm all lit up again  
Flyin_

_I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine  
Mama can you wait, Mama can you wait_

Pushing her way rather forcefully through the crowd, Wendy Testaburger, exercising her authority as the self-appointed queen of her class, squeezed her way to the front. She smiled and waved to her sweetheart at the mic, who smiled and nodded back at her. Kyle noticed Bebe standing next to her, but refused to make any sign of acknowledgement. _Why is that bitch here?_ he thought bitterly. A voice in his mind answered back, _She's Wendy's BFF, so Stan probably had no say in the matter._ He shook her out of his head and concentrated on his guitar riff:

_I'm on a train, and ride on  
You know the train is staying off the track  
I'm in touch love, from this crutch  
Well you're on ten but buddy I'm on eleven_

_And yes I'm all lit up again  
On the couch, in my bed  
And yes I'm all lit up again  
Flyin_

_I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine  
Mama can you wait, Mama can you wait  
I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine  
Mama can you wait  
Oh can you wait long_

It was then that Kyle noticed a girl in the crowd he had never seen before. She was talking to Wendy and Bebe, who were probably complementing her on her vinyl black boots. No girl in South Park would ever wear such flashy clothes, especially not a tight-fitting white blouse unbuttoned just enough to reveal the black lace of her bra. It was then that her blue eyes met Kyle's. Her pink lips softly parted into a friendly smile. A lock of her dark blonde hair fell over her eye, and she gently brushed it aside with a delicate sweep of her hand. He could've fallen in love with her then, if only he were the type of guy who believed in love at first sight. For the rest of the song, he kept his eyes locked on hers as his fingers fluttered up and down the neck of his guitar:

_Crack the door for the curious girl cuz she's waitin, she's been waitin  
Chop a line for the fiendin man cuz he wants one  
You know you know you've got to  
Can you feel it can you feel it tonight  
Are you high love  
Tell me are you fuckin high  
In the moment you are just so right,  
You're right love, oh you're right love_

_And yes I'm all lit up again  
On the couch, in my bed  
And yes I'm all lit up again  
Flyin_

_I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine  
Mama can you wait, Mama can you wait  
I love the cocaine, I love the cocaine  
Mama can you wait  
Oh can you wait long_

The crowd cheered enthusiastically as the song came to an end. Kyle noticed the girl from before slipping back into the crowd, being led somewhere by Bebe. He pulled his guitar strap over his head in one swift motion, set it down next to one of the three large amps, and charged into the crowd after her. Stan turned to Craig and Token, who were both just as confused as he was. Wendy took the chance to jump on the stage and give Stan a soft peck on the cheek.

"Happy Birthday, sweetie," she said in a sugary voice.

"Thanks, baby," he smiled back. "You having a good time?"

"I haven't been here very long," she shrugged. "But," she smirked, her voice turning deep and erotic, "I have a present for you…"

Stan perked up. "Really? Sweet. What is it?"

"Well," she giggled, playing with her shiny black hair and batting her long dark eyelashes, "it's up in your room. Come on, I want to be there when you 'unwrap' it…"

She took his hand, gave him a long kiss on the lips, and beckoned him to follow her inside the house.

Kyle, having realized that the girl was a lost cause, slumped defeated on his way back to the stage. Noticing Stan was missing, he turned to the beer pong table behind him. There, Kenny and Cartman, the champions of the town, were only one cup away from another victory. The chains on Kenny's black pants jingled as he tried to shake of his drunken haze. He shook the shaggy blonde hair out of his face and his fishnet-gloved hand delicately plucked a white ball out of a red cup full of water. He squinted, lining up the shot, and was about to toss his way to victory when Kyle slid between them.

"You guys seen Stan lately?"

The small white ball flew into the air, landing just to the right of the lone red cup on the other side of the table. Their opponents breathed a small sigh of relief, knowing that they still had a chance to catch up.

"Dammit!!" Kenny yelled. "That should've gone in!"

Cartman shrugged, adjusting his letterman jacket. "Dude, Stan is upstairs getting LAID!!" He turned to Kenny and added, "High five!" using his best Borat impression.

"Yeah," Kenny laughed. "We heard Wendy telling him she had a 'present' for him up in his room. I swear, he looked like he had no idea what the fuck she was talking about."

"So…" Kyle asked, "what do we do now?"

"Well," Cartman replied, plucking another white ball from the water cup, "Kenny and I were gonna bounce out after this game, maybe go back to my place and blaze. You down?"

"How much?" Kyle retorted, knowing full well that Cartman would never offer to smoke out anyone for free. "Hey, how bout I just pay for munchies?"

"Fair enough," Cartman answered, not really paying much attention. Instead, he was completely focused on this final shot. "Don't worry guys, game should be over in just a minute after I sink this shot…"

Kenny burst out laughing. "Bullshit! You're lucky you've even made a shot at all tonight!"

"Fuck you, Kenny!" Cartman snapped. "I'm just having a bad streak tonight, that's all."

"I've been carrying your ass this entire game!" Kenny laughed. "Let's see…nine shots for me, and…um…TWO for you!"

"God dammit," Kyle sighed. He plucked the ball out of Cartman's hand and waved it at the two opponents. "Celebrity shot!" With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the ball, bouncing it on the table and into the cup.

"Fuck yeah!" Kenny shouted victoriously. "That means no rebuttal, bitches!" He said mockingly to their surprised and defeated opponents.

"Can we go now?"

Satisfied, they strutted to the driveway where Kyle's shiny red Mustang was parked. He thought it best that he drive, as his friends were already having enough trouble walking. He waited for them to figure out the seatbelts – a good five minutes of "How the hell does this fucking thing work?" – before slowly backing out.

**I'm going to stop this chapter here, only because it's almost finals week, and I am totally screwed.**

**Peace, Love and All Things Rock,  
Terra the Masterful**


	2. Last Virgin Standing

**Since I don't really feel like studying or writing papers today – even though that is what I should be doing – I thought I'd go ahead and put up the next chapter. Enjoy!**

** Call Me Blue Streak: It's not that I'm against slash or anything like that, but I just felt like it's been done over and over again. Maybe it is daring, but whether or not it pays off only time can tell…(And who knows – I'm tossing around some ideas, might throw a bit in later.)**

**Chapter Two – Last Virgin Standing**

Peering in to make sure no one was there to bother them, Wendy tiptoed into Stan's room, gently pulling him by the hand. She snuck behind his bed and revealed a champagne bottle and two glasses. She handed one to Stan as she struggled to twist off the top of the bottle without making a wet foamy mess.

Stan smiled warmly and kissed her on the cheek. "This is really sweet of you, Wendy."

"Well," she giggled as she poured the bubbly liquid into their glasses, "I thought I'd make it a little extra romantic…"

They clinked their glasses together and gulped the champagne down. It took them only about fifteen minutes to finish the entire bottle. When the last drop was gone, Wendy flicked off the lights and, smiling seductively, slid off her blouse and jeans.

Stan gazed up at her, pondering her intentions. She answered back with a warm kiss as she slid her legs around his waist. Her hands felt their way up his shirt, slowly pushing it over his head. They parted just long enough for Stan to pull of his shirt before falling back into their lustful embrace. His hands slid up her back until they reached her bra. He hesitated, looking to her for a sign to keep going.

She smiled flirtatiously back at him. "Well," she giggled, "aren't you going to unwrap your present?"

Finally he figured out what her little game was really all about. With one swift motion he unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. She playfully pushed him onto the bed and slid herself down to his waist. She unbuttoned his pants and – rather forcefully – tugged them off along with his boxers.

It was then, as the alcohol began catching up with him, that he started to worry. _Shit,_ he thought, _I hope I can still get it up._ Kenny had told them stories before about that happening, and this would've been an especially inconvenient time for Stan.

Wendy tossed her panties on the floor next to their other clothes. She hovered teasingly over his member before slipping her lips around it. Taking the entire thing in her mouth, her tongue fluttered up and down until she felt it growing wider. Stan's worry lifted as he felt himself grow harder in her hot, moist mouth. He could've exploded just the and it would've been the greatest moment of his life.

"Oh, God," he moaned in ecstasy. "I wish I could stick it in you right now…"

She let go of him and slid up so that her lips were right next to his ear. "I thought you'd never ask," she whispered, lying down next to him. "Happy Birthday, love…"

* * *

"Dude," Cartman sighed, pausing to exhale the thick, milky smoke. "You think Stan's getting it good right now or what?"

"Aw, Cartman," Kyle grumbled, "I really don't feel like thinking about that right now."

"Hey dude," Kenny cut in, "are you gonna pass that shit sometime before Thanksgiving?"

Cartman sighed, reluctantly passing the shiny gold hose of his red and bronze Egyptian hookah pipe to Kenny. It was a gift he had received from his uncle when he turned eighteen, and the boys had made good use of it ever since. They even went so far as to redecorate Cartman's basement into a full hookah lounge, with couches, a coffee table, and walls painted with designs from Dark Side of the Moon, Yellow Submarine, and Swan Song. In other words, it was perhaps the trippiest place in all of South Park.

"But seriously you guys," Cartman continued, "what do you think it feels like? Sex, I mean."

"Like the greatest chronic you will ever smoke in your entire life," Kenny said. He had been the first of the group to discover sex during their freshman year, and he saw no reason not to rub it in their faces all the time.

"There was that one chick tonight though…" Cartman began. "She came in from West Park, and had, like, the awesomest titties I've ever seen…"

Kyle sat up. He wondered if this was the same girl he had seen that night, and strongly hoped it wasn't. Worse than getting dumped by any girl, in his mind, would be losing her to Cartman.

Kenny burst out laughing and coughing at the same time. "Dude," he exclaimed as soon as he caught his breath, "I saw you coming onto that chick, and she was fucking FAT!!!"

"Hey! Shut up!! She wasn't fat!" Cartman yelled back defensively.

Kenny passed the hose to Kyle, still laughing hysterically. "Seriously Kyle, you should've gotten a look at this girl. I'm telling you, she was huge. If I tried to have sex with her she'd probably break my hip."

"Can I tell the damn story or not?!" Cartman yelled. He waited a few seconds before continuing, "Okay, so she and I go back to her car and start getting busy. And she was moaning all this shit like 'Oh yeah, I want you inside me so bad…' And so I'm about to hit that when she starts moving her hand down there, you know…"

"Aw, dude!" Kenny yelled. In the Borat voice he added, "Very niiiiice. My fat friend made-ah sexy time! High five!"

"Yeah, I wish," Cartman grumbled. "I _thought_ that was what was going to happen. Turns out she was reaching down there to pull out a fucking _tampon_. I swear, I just got the fuck outta there."

"Lies!" Kyle exclaimed. "All lies! You are so full of shit, Cartman. You are so full of shit that I'm surprised it's not gushing out your nose."

"Well, at least I got _that_ far with a girl!" Cartman fired back. "You couldn't even get to third base with Bebe!"

"Because I didn't _want_ to. I could've jumped in bed with Bebe whenever I wanted to, but then I found out that she's a two-faced conniving bitch. All women are." He paused briefly to take a puff from the golden hose. "I just don't feel like I'm in a rush to get laid. When I finally do it, I want it to be for love."

Cartman snickered. "You sound like such a fag, dude."

"Yeah," Kenny added. "Come on, dude. No one _really_ does it for love."

Kyle shrugged. "Well, I'm not gonna do it just to do it. I want to enjoy it, you know?"

"Oh, trust me," Kenny laughed, "you'll _definitely_ enjoy it!"

"Assuming any chick would ever wanna hook up with a scruffy ginger Jew," Cartman said tauntingly.

"Okay, fine!" Kyle snarled. "I'll bet you _two hundred dollars_ that I can lose my virginity before you do, Cartman! And I'll make it _double_ that I'll find a girl who's smarter, prettier, and all-around better than anyone _you_ could ever hope for!!"

"Fine, Jew," Cartman scoffed. "You're on!"

**Well, there you have it – the challenge is on! Who will succeed? Will Kyle ever find that mystery girl from the party? Only one way to find out…reading my mind! (Or you could just read Chapter 3 – Welcome to the Neighborhood)**

**Peace, Love, and All Things Rock,  
Terra the Masterful**


	3. Welcome to the Neighborhood

**Ugh. Sorry about the wait. I had most of this chapter written before I left for Christmas break, but I didn't think to bring my computer with me. Even if I did, I don't think I could've done much creative expression without my mom bitching at me for being on the computer all day instead of trying to get together with my high school friends who I never talk to anymore.**

**Well, all the same, here it is for your enjoyment. Enough of the bullshit, I'll bore you all some other time. On with the next chapter!!**

**Chapter Three – Welcome to the Neighborhood**

Randy Marsh slipped ever-so-quietly up the stairs, trying not to wake his wife. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of cigars, and snickered to himself. It was always amusing to him how Stan tried so hard to hide his drug habits. Anyone who was conscious during the '60s can see their kid come home with bloodshot eyes smelling of pot and easily put two and two together. These parents also tend to be more open-minded about that kind of stuff. This was why Randy Marsh decided to take the opportunity share a father-son moment with Stan.

As he approached his son's room, Randy thought he heard deep groans and pants coming from inside. The door was cracked open, and he lightly pushed it all the way. Sure enough, he found Stan furiously humping his girlfriend. All Randy could see of her though were her legs tightly squeezing his son's waist.

"Um…Stan?"

It was then Stan noticed him, and with a loud "SHIT!" dove under the covers of his bed, allowing only his and Wendy's heads and shoulders to be exposed. "What the hell do you want, Dad?!" he shouted angrily, more out of embarrassment than rage.

"N-Nothing," Randy stuttered, equally embarrassed. "I'll come back later." He was about to walk away when he turned back around and peered at them suspiciously. "I hope you're using protec-"

"DAD!"

"Okay okay, sorry," said Randy defensively. He slipped away, closing the door with him.

* * *

The next morning, Sheila Brofslovski, taking it upon herself to make a good impression for the entire town, strolled over to the house next door. She had noticed the moving vans parked there earlier in the week, and had waited for them to leave before venturing over to meet the new residents. Displaying her homemade cherry pie proudly, as if it were a trophy, she rapped on the door and smiled warmly in anticipation.

The door opened, revealing a brown-haired woman in her early forties. Her green eyes ran up and down Sheila, as if trying to figure her out. The woman wore baggy pajama pants and a Dark Side of the Moon shirt.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh, yes," chimed Sheila eagerly. "I saw that you had just moved in next door, and I decided to come over and welcome you to the neighborhood. I'm Sheila Brofslovski."

"Kelly Jameson," the woman replied, accepting Sheila's outstretched hand with a polite shake. "Please, come inside."

"We're still unpacking, as you can see," she said apologetically indicating the large boxes all over the house. "The drive from Los Angeles drained all of us."

"Really?" said Sheila, trying to show interest without sounding too fake. "So, what brings you all the way out here to South Park?"

"Oh, please have a seat," she replied, motioning for Sheila to take a place on the couch. When they were settled, she continued, "Well, my husband grew up here, and after we got married he suggested we come here to get away from the city. I was a little hesitant, and a part of me will always miss the West Coast. But with my oldest in college and my youngest almost out of high school I thought it would be good for us."

"You have children?"

"Oh yes," replied Kelly proudly. "Brad is twenty and Charlie is seventeen."

Sheila perked up. "Actually, my oldest son is seventeen as well. They should get to know each other."

"Oh, that would be nice. I'm worried about Charlie adapting to this new environment. We've never left the city in our lives until now."

"Well, don't you worry. I'll make sure you all feel right at home here. In fact, I'd like to have you all over for dinner tonight. Does six o'clock work for you?"

Kelly hesitated. She knew people in small towns were generally friendly, but hospitality was a foreign concept to people from the city. "Um…okay, I guess."

"Great!" Sheila exclaimed. "I'll see you then!"

* * *

At around five that night, Sheila Brofslovski bustled through her kitchen, making sure everything was just perfect for their guests. She moved so quickly that she barely noticed her thirteen-year-old son Ike staring at her in confusion.

"Hey, Mom?" he asked quietly. "Why are there four extra place settings?"

"Oh, yes," she smiled proudly, "I invited our new neighbors from California over for dinner. One of their kids is the same age as Kyle, and I thought it would be good of him to make friends with people other than that Cartman boy. Something about that boy just doesn't feel right to me. Anyway, tell your brother to be washed up for dinner by six."

Ike shrugged, not caring enough to say anything back. He figured he'd go upstairs and see if his brother was still asleep. He knocked on the door, already smelling weed and knowing what to expect.

"What?" came the flat response.

"It's Ike," he replied.

"It's unlocked, dude."

Ike pushed open the door, only to be greeted by a haze of smoke. He found his brother exactly where he'd expected him to be – sitting at his desk, with a glass pipe in one hand and a lighter in the other. Kyle held one end of the pipe to his lips, hovering the lighter above the small bowl at the other end, and pulled it away to exhale. Instead, he let out a deep hacking cough.

"I haven't seen you cough that bad for a long time," Ike commented.

"Yeah," Kyle croaked. "This shit is pretty strong. Kenny gave it to me yesterday. Said he got it from his brother in Denver."

Ike closed the door behind him and sat on Kyle's bed. He had known about his brother's smoking habits for quite some time, and while he didn't always approve of it, he had enough respect for Kyle not to rat him out to their parents.

"Anyway," Ike began, "Mom says the new neighbors from California are coming over for dinner. She wants you to meet one of their kids who's seventeen."

"Fuck," Kyle groaned. "I hate when Mom pulls this dumb shit, trying to make me be social and whatnot. If she wants to force me to hang out with some tofu-eating douchebag, then I'll just tell her to fuck off."

Ike snickered. "Yeah, I'd love to see _that._ But then, I'd also love to see the look on her face when she finds out about all the drugs you do."

Kyle sighed. "Ike, I told you a thousand times. I don't do drugs, okay? Just weed."

"Whatever. Anyway, Mom wants you downstairs by six."

"Fine," Kyle grumbled. As soon as Ike left, he let his mind wonder back to the night before. He couldn't get that girl out of his head – her shimmering hair, her crystal-blue eyes, her lips soft like rose petals. When she smiled at him he felt a strange tingle up and down his back, something he'd never felt before. He wasn't sure what it was, but he enjoyed it. _God, why couldn't I at least have gotten her name?_ he thought. _Now I'll never see her again…_

Kyle turned to his clock, and realized that it was 5:53 already. He quickly shoved his pipe and lighter into his desk drawer, and pulled out a plastic bottle of eye drops. After squirting one drop into each eye, he straightened up his polo shirt, shook his head to wake himself up, and strolled down to the kitchen.

The doorbell rang just then, as if timed perfectly. Sheila scurried to answer the door, pausing only to straighten her blouse. She opened the door and beckoned the family inside. It was then that Kyle got the biggest surprise of his life.

There she stood – the girl from the night before. Her hair was twisted up, revealing her glistening earrings. Her red halter top and navy blue jeans accentuated her curvy figure, showing just enough cleavage so as not to offend their parents. _She's even more beautiful up close_, he thought. _How could I have been lucky enough to get a second chance?_

Her eyes met his, and a look of confusion spread on her face. She had seen him before, but she just couldn't remember when. His thoughts were interrupted when his brother tapped him on the shoulder.

"Uh…Kyle?"

Kyle shook himself out of his trance. Realizing that he had probably just made a big idiot of himself, he cleared his throat and extended his hand to her. "I'm Kyle," he said, trying his hardest not to stutter.

"Hi," she smiled. "I'm Charlie."

He gently shook her hand, and as her soft skin brushed his he wished he didn't have to let go. She gave him another confused look, as if she had been reading his thoughts. He blushed shyly, realizing he had been caught.

Ike nudged him teasingly. "She doesn't look much like a tofu-eating douchebag to me," he giggled in Hebrew.

"Fuck off," Kyle replied in the same language. He gave his brother a playful shove.

Charlie smiled slyly at them, raising her eyebrow as if she had something planned. She motioned for her brother to come closer.

"Brad, say something back to me so they think we're making fun of them," she told him in Spanish.

"Come on Charlie, don't be mean," he said back in Spanish.

She giggled, making sure to look directly at Kyle. "See?" she said deviously. "My brother and I have a secret language, too."

"Not bad," he nodded. "Where'd you learn that?"

"When you live in East L.A. you don't really have a choice," she replied. "It's really not that easy being one of the only white girls in Glendale."

"I know what you mean. I'm pretty much the only Jew in my class."

It was then that a digital rendition of "Smoke Two Joints" began jingling from inside Kyle's pocket. He reluctantly pulled out his cell phone, wondering what the hell Stan was calling him for now. Casually flipping it open, he lifted the phone to his ear.

"What up?"

"Dude," Stan yelled into his ear, "why the hell aren't you over here?"

Kyle cursed himself. He had completely forgotten that that night was Drunken Brawl Night. It was a game in which they would duel one another at video games, and the losers would take shots. From what Kyle could hear, Kenny and Cartman were already well into it.

"My family's having dinner with the new neighbors," he answered.

"Well, get your ass over here!" Stan yelled back. "Wait, hold on…What?...Yeah…Yeah, I'll tell him…Oh, uh, Cartman says he's calling you out when you get here."

Kyle laughed. "Whatever, man. Tell him I accept and I'll be there in a couple hours."

"'Kay man. Peace."

Kyle slid his phone back into his pocket. Charlie gazed at him curiously, wondering why his mood had changed. He noticed her stare and said, "Those were my friends. They want me to get wasted and play video games with them."

"Sounds like fun," she laughed.

"You're welcome to come, I guess," he shrugged. "But I should warn you about my friend Kenny."

"What about him?"

"Well," Kyle hesitated, trying to explain his friend without making him look too bad. "Let's just say that he is guaranteed to hit on you, and you should probably refrain from saying anything that he can somehow relate to sex."

"Got it," she smiled.

**Okay, I admit, that chapter was kinda boring. All the same, thank you everyone for being so patient with me. I'll try and make it up to you by posting Chapter Four in the next couple of days.**

**Peace, Love, and All Things Rock,**

**Terra the Masterful**


	4. Wah Wah Wee Wah

**As promised, here is the next installment of "Fenders and Hookah Pipes." The song, by the way, was written by British comedian Sasha Baron Cohen, better known as Ali G.**

**Chapter Four – Wah Wah Wee Wah**

Over at Stan's house, Kenny and Cartman were engaged in a fierce digital battle of Soul Caliber. As the gargantuan demon delivered a final crushing blow to the woman in the tight dress, Cartman laughed victoriously.

"Niiiiiice," he said, "I have-a great success!"

"Dude," Kenny replied as he reached for a shot glass, "I'm not even trying anymore, man. I'm too busy staring at this chick's knockers."

Stan laughed. "Seriously. I wouldn't mind tapping that either, man."

It was then that he noticed that Wendy had returned from the kitchen and was standing behind them, staring bitterly into his eyes.

Thinking quickly, he jumped up from the couch and walked over to her. "Baby, I am so sorry. I did not mean to make a sexist, derogatory comment in your presence." He threw in a charming smile, just in case.

She stared at him, pondering her response. After a few seconds, she smiled deviously and pulled him into a long kiss. "Thank God for that ass," she whispered.

Cartman burst out laughing. "Dude, your girl got you balls in a death grip or what?"

"Knock it off," Stan snapped, as Wendy made herself comfortable on his lap. "I don't like making her angry, cuz one, I love her, and two, she determines if I get laid or not."

"Well, as long as I'm here, you don't necessarily determine if Wendy gets laid or not," Kenny smirked. "She knows what I'm talking about…" He gave Wendy a flirtatious wink.

Stan shot him a nasty look. Kenny had always been known to flirt with Wendy in his presence, and it had never bothered him before. But for some reason, he found it particularly irritating.

"Why not? I liiiiike," Cartman added. "She have beautiful face, and she is tiiiight, like a man's anus…"

"You guys are assholes," Stan grumbled, pulling Wendy closer to him.

"Come on, dude. You know we're just fuckin' around," said Kenny.

Cartman took a quick swig of beer from a can on the table. "When iz zee dirty Jew going to arrive? I must do battle wiz him and when I have-a great success, I shall make-a liquid explosion upon his face."

Between laughs, Stan cut in, "Dude, Cartman, that's it. No more booze for you."

Just then, the door opened and Kyle walked in. Behind him entered a pretty girl, who smiled shyly back at them.

"Wah wah wee wah," Cartman muttered as his eyes ran up and down her body.

"Hey guys, this is Charlie Jameson, my new neighbor," said Kyle, motioning to Charlie.

She ran over to Wendy and gave her a big hug. "What's up, _putana_?"

"Not much," Wendy laughed.

Cartman leapt up and took Charlie's hand. Giving it a soft kiss, he smiled, "You can call me Cartman. It's a pleasure, Miss Jameson."

"Uh…thanks," she replied.

Kenny responded to this by giving her a hug and a kiss on each cheek. "I'm Kenny," he said softly, staring deep into her eyes. He then surprised her by pulling her into a passionate kiss. As he pulled away, he gave her a wink before returning to his seat on the couch.

"Wow," she said after a long silence. "I wasn't expecting that at all…"

Wendy nudged her playfully. "Who's the _putana_ now?" Charlie laughed and nudged her back.

Kyle nodded at Cartman, "Dude, we gonna do this or what?"

"Yeeeeessss," Cartman laughed deviously. "It is time for zee Jew to get…how you say…his ass kicked."

"I doubt it," he replied, taking a seat next to him. "You're already pretty fucked up. And if you sing that song I'm gonna smack you."

"What song?" Charlie asked.

"_In my country there is problem…_" Cartman began.

"Don't start, asshole," Kyle snapped.

"_And zat problem is zee Jew…_"

Stan sighed. "Dude, he's not gonna stop, so just let him sing it."

"Whatever," Kyle groaned.

Satisfied, Cartman belted out the song at the top of his lungs:

_If you see the Jew coming  
You must be careful of his teeth  
You must grab him by his money  
And I tell you what to do_

_Throw the Jew down the well  
So my country can be free  
You must grab him by his horns  
And then we have a big partee_

"Are you happy now?" Kyle grumbled.

"Yeeeessss," Cartman laughed. "Now I will do battle and defeat zee Jew."

They picked up their respective controllers and prepared to fight. Cartman continued to hum the song, much to Kyle's annoyance. Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kenny inching his way closer to Charlie.

"Lemme just ask you something, and be honest," he heard Kenny whisper. "Did I come on too strong?"

"Actually, yeah," she replied. "_Really _strong."

He nodded understandingly. "I kinda thought so. But you gotta understand…there was just something about you that…I don't know…made me feel things…"

He slid his arm around her, letting his fingertips gently brush her shoulder. As soon as she became aware of them, he jerked his arm away.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said somewhat insincerely. "I mean…I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay," she replied. "I don't mind."

This was exactly the response Kenny had been hoping for. With that he let his hand slid a little further down her arm and gently caressed her shoulder with his fingertips. She allowed her head to gently rest on his shoulder, a slight blush to her cheeks.

Wendy noticed all of this out of the corner of her eye. She nudged Charlie and whispered harshly, "Kitchen, please. Now."

Charlie sat up, looking confusedly at Kenny, who simply shrugged. She stood up and followed Wendy into the kitchen. Meanwhile, Kenny took the opportunity to enjoy the view of Charlie's ass. "Nice," he whispered to himself.

In the kitchen, making sure they were out of sight of the guys, Wendy gave Charlie a nasty look. "No, no, a thousand times no!" she scolded. "I care about you, Charlie, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"What are you talking about?" Charlie asked, more confused now than she was before.

"Kenny," Wendy stated. "He is the quintessential player of South Park. He charms his way under your panties, and once he's satisfied he disappears. I don't want that for you, Charlie."

Charlie laughed to herself. "You're being paranoid, Wendy. I'm not going to get my heart broken, because I don't want a relationship or anything like that with him. Besides, sleeping with one guy doesn't make me a slut."

"Sleeping with Kenny _automatically_ makes you a slut!"

"It's going to be fine, Wendy," said Charlie reassuringly, giving Wendy a quick hug. "I've done this kind of thing before. Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

They walked together back into the living room, returning to their protective seats. Stan pulled Wendy to him and whispered something in her ear, to which she nodded in reply. Meanwhile, Cartman glanced at them with suspicion.

"Dude," he said finally. "About time. What, were you two fingering each other in there or something? Cuz I know Wendy can't always control her 'urges'…"

"Fuck you, Cartman!" Wendy snapped.

"Yeah, I wish," he chortled. "Too bad you're only into other chicks."

Stan hugged Wendy protectively. "Knock it off, man. My girlfriend's not a lesbian, okay?"

"By the way," Kenny cut in, "just so you know, I have no problem with two fine ladies like yourselves loving one another…"

"Kenny, stay out of this please," Wendy grumbled.

"What?" he said defensively. "I just thought we might be able to work something out, you know?"

Wendy sighed in exasperation. "Look, can we just drop this?"

An awkward silence followed as they quietly sipped their drinks. Kenny slipped even closer to Charlie, pulling her ear to his lips. "Why you giving me this cold shoulder, huh? You weren't like this before you went in the kitchen with Wendy just now. So what's up?"

"Well," she smiled teasingly, "Wendy seems to think that you're just out to use me and break my heart. Tell me Kenny, why would she say that?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Let's ask her." He reached out and tapped her on the shoulder. "Why you hatin' on me, Wendy?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on," he laughed. "I know you were talking shit about me just now. I mean, I know that you have some hidden sexual feelings for me Wendy, but I don't want you to get all jealous on me, okay? Yes, it's true, God blessed me with a huge wang. All I'm doing is just expressing my gratitude and doing His will by sharing it with all the beautiful women of South Park."

"Well played, Mr. McCormick," Cartman muttered admiringly. "Well played."

* * *

As the morning hours grew closer, everyone collectively decided it was time to leave. As Kyle made his way back to his car, Kenny and Charlie followed behind him, their arms around one another's waists. "Hey, Kyle?" Charlie yelled, even though he was only a few feet away. "Can Kenny get a ride with us?"

Kyle knew it was a bad idea, but he also didn't want to look like a dick in front of Charlie. "Uh…yeah, sure," he answered.

The couple piled in the back of the Mustang, giggling in drunken bliss. As soon as Kyle sat down, he noticed them already getting friendlier. But as Kenny's hands began to slide slowly up the front of her shirt, Charlie put her hands on his chest and gently pushed him away.

"What's up?" he whispered.

"Not in front of Kyle," she whispered back.

"Don't worry," he replied, letting his lips brush her neck. "He's seen me do much more fucked-up shit than this…"

As Kyle drove, he tried his hardest to focus only on the road. But no matter how much he didn't want to look in the rearview mirror, he couldn't help catching glimpses at them – the sweetest, most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and his childhood friend who could hardly keep his hands off her. Every time he looked at them his nausea grew, until he felt like he would vomit all over them both.

When at last he pulled into the Jamesons' driveway, Charlie climbed clumsily out of the car and walked to Kyle's window. She tapped the glass loudly with her finger until he lowered it all the way. "Thanks for the ride, Kyle," she said sweetly. Giving him a soft peck on his left cheek, she whispered, "Can't wait to see you tomorrow…"

She shuffled her feet as she headed for the door of her house. Nodding her head at Kenny, she motioned for him to come. Excitedly, he jumped out of the car. Leaning over to Kyle, he whispered, "Hey, dude, thanks for bringing her, man. That girl is _fine._"

"Uh…yeah, it was fun," he replied unenthusiastically.

"Dude," Kenny whispered, checking quickly to make sure Charlie couldn't hear, "it's about to get even better, man!" With that he ran to her side, opening the door like a gentleman, and followed her inside the house.

* * *

"Wait…so you just let her go like that?"

Kyle sighed to himself as he threw himself down on his bed. In the back of his mind he already knew what Kenny and Charlie were doing, and the thought of it gave him a throbbing headache. Stan of all people should have understood how he was feeling, but his friend offered no help.

"What was I supposed to do?" Kyle grumbled, switching the phone to his other ear. "This is Kenny we're talking about."

Stan sighed. "So what? Look, if you really care about this girl, you need to let her know it. Forget about Kenny, forget about Bebe, just forget about everything. If you want something bad enough, you can't let yourself be afraid."

"I'm not good at that kind of stuff, though," Kyle groaned. "I mean, I got all this shit I wanna say to her, but every time I try the words get stuck in my throat. And I don't know what to do about it."

"Look, I had the same problem with Wendy back in the day. You just need to show her what kind of guy you really are. If it helps, I'll try and get Wendy to talk to her for you, okay?"

Kyle smiled a little at this. "It would make me feel a little better."

"I thought so," Stan replied. "Hey listen, I gotta go. Wendy wants some 'attention,' so to speak. Late."

Kyle flipped his phone shut and set it on the nightstand. In his mind he tossed around what Stan had said, and wondered if he really had a chance in hell with Charlie. He closed his eyes and fell asleep, feeling no better or worse than he had before.

**I wish I could've finished this one sooner, but Burning Crusade came out this week and my boyfriend wants us to level to 70 together. (Yes, we're a nerdy couple.)**

**Peace, Love, and All Things Rock,**

**Terra the Masterful**


	5. And So It Begins

**God damn, college is a bitch. That and I've spent so much time "****studying" and "writing papers". Anyway, I had some time to kill and thought I'd motivate myself enough to put up the next chapter. Enjoy! (And please stop touching yourself.)**

**Chapter Five – And So It Begins**

As he cuddled between the sheets of his bed with Wendy, Stan wondered how best to approach her about Kyle's dilemma. Having dated her for the past year, he had learned his own little ways of "persuading" her. He pulled Wendy's warm body close to his, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"Hey," he whispered, gazing romantically into her eyes.

"What's up?" she whispered back, smiling shyly.

"I was thinking, you know what would be fun?" With his finger he lifted a piece of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear. He let his lips gently brush her neck before settling on the perfect spot. Swirling the tip of his tongue on the spot, he let his teeth sink into her soft flesh, mindful not to hurt her.

"What?" she giggled, trying to push him away but at the same time enjoying it.

Stan knew this was the right time to move in for the kill. He pulled her closer still, breathing heavily into her ear. "I think you should get Charlie to hook up with Kyle."

She immediately pushed him away, a look of disgust on her face. "What? Hell no! I can't do that!"

"Why the hell not?" he replied in confusion.

"Because," she sighed, rolling her eyes in annoyance at his ignorance. "Kyle is Bebe's ex-boyfriend, and Bebe's my best friend."

Stan looked her up and down, trying to figure out if she was crazy or just drunk. "So what? That was like two years ago. I think it's safe to say she's over it."

"God, don't you get it?" she snapped. "I could never betray my friend like that. It's the worst kind of backstabbing a girl can do to another girl."

Stan couldn't help laughing at his girlfriend's twisted reasoning. _Women are so fucking weird_, he thought to himself. "Baby, what are you talking about? Are you saying that if Bebe wasn't your friend you wouldn't care who Kyle got with?"

Wendy pondered this briefly. "No, not really," she shrugged. "Just so long as she's not a total bitch." With that she rolled over and switched off the lamp on his nightstand.

_You should've let Kyle be the judge of that_, he thought. But as he lay there in the dark, an idea formed in his head. _If she and Bebe weren't friends anymore, Wendy wouldn't feel guilty about getting Kyle and Charlie together_, he reasoned. _It's all very simple…_

* * *

The parking lot at Five Parks High School bustled with students on the first morning of class. Students from all across the region gathered in clusters, catching up on the latest local gossip. Kyle Broflovski, seeing the perfect empty spot, made a sharp right turn and slid his Mustang in with ease.

"Nice park job, Jew," came the obnoxious voice from the black SUV next to him. It was then he noticed Cartman sitting proudly in his car, staring down at him. He also noticed that he had gone just over the white painted line into Cartman's space.

"Good morning to you too," Kyle said flatly, getting out of his car. "Where's Kenny? I thought he was riding with you."

Cartman shrugged. "Nah, he called and said he was riding with that Charlie chick. And for once he wasn't trying to make a sex joke."

Kyle sighed to himself. He was hoping he could have gone at least half the day without being reminded that the girl he liked was sleeping with one of his best friends. Cartman looked him up and down, trying to get into his head and fuck with him a little.

Stan pulled his white Jeep into an empty spot behind them, blaring Pearl Jam from his speakers. His hand laid casually out the window, holding a lit cigarette between his fingers. Shifting into park, he nodded to his friends in acknowledgement and then turned to his lap.

"Baby, we're here," he said.

Wendy lifted her head, wiping her lips on her sleeve. She slid out of the passenger door as Stan jumped out of the car. He slung his backpack casually over his left shoulder, tossed the cigarette on the asphalt and gave Wendy a quick peck on the cheek before she walked away. Kyle noticed an unusual bounce in Stan's step as he strutted over to them.

"Road head, huh?" Cartman snorted. "Real classy, Marsh. Real classy."

Stan laughed it off. "Whatever, dude. You're jealous and you know it."

"Maybe I am, Marsh," Cartman shrugged, "but it makes no difference. Once I win my little bet with Kyle and collect my four hundred dollars, then we'll see who gets the last laugh. Oh, and Kyle, I'm going to be wanting that money in cash." Satisfied, he gathered his books and strutted toward the school building.

* * *

"Hey, dude," Stan whispered as they walked through the hallway. "What's this bet you made with Cartman?"

"Oh yeah," Kyle nodded, remembering that Stan had not been there when he made it. "Dude, it's nothing, just some dumb thing I did when I was high the other night. I bet Cartman four hundred dollars I could swipe my V-card before he did. But seriously, just forget about it. It's stupid."

"Dude," Stan smirked, "that's not stupid at all. That's fucking _genius_. Damn, I wish I'd done that shit two years ago. Maybe then I wouldn't have had to work twenty hours a week to pay for my Jeep."

Kyle sighed. "Look, just forget about it. So did you talk to Wendy about Charlie for me or what?"

"Ooohhh…" Stan replied, making a face, "Yeah, about that. There's good news and there's bad news, so just work with me on this one. Okay, bad news is that Wendy refused to hook you guys up because she didn't want to betray Bebe…"

"And Bebe has what to do with all of this?"

"I don't know. It's a chick thing."

"That's real fucking helpful, Stan."

"Okay, okay," Stan cut in, trying to reassure Kyle that it wasn't so bad. "Look, you haven't heard the good news yet."

"What?" Kyle groaned.

"Good news is, I got Wendy to admit that she'd help you if she and Bebe _weren't_ friends." He smiled proudly, waiting for Kyle to take it in and feel better about it.

Instead, all he got from Kyle was a blank stare. "And how exactly do you plan on making that happen? Those two go all the way back to kindergarten," he sighed as he played with his dark red hair.

"Look," Stan whispered, quickly checking to make sure no one could hear. "I have certain 'information' about Bebe that might make Wendy think twice about being a loyal friend…"

Kyle perked up at this. Leaning closer, he whispered back, "Go on…"

Stan lips parted into a sinister grin. "Remember last year at Craig's party? Well, I was just hanging out after we played our set when Bebe came up to me and we started talking. She was going on about how Clyde was out of town that weekend and how sorry she was that Wendy and I broke up. Anyway, we had a few more drinks together and ended up going back to her house…"

Kyle's eyes grew wide, as if he had just seen the seven circles of hell. "Dude, no fucking way! Please tell me y-"

"Chill, man," Stan laughed. "Yeah, I apparently got laid that night, but I swear I didn't enjoy it. Matter of fact, I don't even remember it happening…well, except for the huge pile of puke I left on her bathroom floor."

"Dude," Kyle whispered harshly, still in shock over the news, "does Wendy know?"

"Of course not," Stan scoffed. "But this is the perfect time to tell her. If I know Wendy well enough, she'll be so unbelievably mad at Bebe for doing this to her that there's no possible way they can stay friends. After that, you'll be banging that California slut six days through Sunday." He held up his hand for a high-five, but put it back down after seeing Kyle's look of resentment.

"First of all," Kyle snapped, "Charlie's not a slut. Second, I'm not doing this just to get laid, alright?"

Stan threw his arm around Kyle and pulled him close. "Dude, listen. I don't care why you're doing this, okay? All I care about is that we're bros, and bros help each other out. So if my bro is looking to get with a girl – for whatever reason – I'm more than willing to lend a hand."

"'Kay…"

"It's gonna cost you, though."

"What?" Kyle turned to him confusedly. "What about all that bullshit about 'helping your bro'?"

"Listen, man," Stan whispered, pulling Kyle closer until he was breathing in his friend's ear. "When I drop this bombshell, Wendy's gonna shit a brick, and not just at Bebe. Even though I was single when all this happened, my dick is still on the chopping block here. So if things don't go entirely as planned on my end of things, I'll have to take Wendy out to some fancy restaurant that I can't afford in order to make it up to her. And maybe get her a little drunk, just to be safe."

"Fine," Kyle sighed in defeat. "How much?"

"Sixty bucks."

"What the fu-…fine," Kyle grumbled as he pulled out his wallet. Thumbing through the bills, he pulled out three 20s and handed them to Stan. "Good luck, dude."

"Thanks man. Listen, I gotta head to class. Meet you in the North Wing bathroom at lunch?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Peace, dude."

With that, Stan disappeared into the crowd of students, leaving Kyle to wonder whether this was really a good idea. _Guess I can't screw up any worse,_ he shrugged to himself. _At least Wendy might be able to talk to her. It's worth a shot anyway._ With a quick sweep of his hand through his wavy red hair, he squeezed between the masses of people on his way to class.

**I know, this one took forever to put up. I have a good excuse though – three papers all due on the same day. And a cold. I think I'm excused.**

**Peace, Love, and All Things Rock,**

**Terra the Masterful**


	6. Mixed Emotions

**Stupid fucking college classes. All the science classes out here are boring as hell. No wonder only nerdy Asians declare engineering majors.**

**Anyway, enough of my caffeine-induced rambling. You want Chapter Six? You can't handle Chapter Six! Well, maybe you can…**

**Chapter Six – Mixed Emotions**

As the bell finally rang, signaling the beginning of lunch, Kyle eagerly pushed his way past the cafeteria crowd and headed for the North Wing of the school. Now what, you might ask, is so special about the boys' bathroom in the North Wing? As freshmen, the boys had learned of this place through the seniors on the school's wrestling team. For roughly seven years the smoke detector in the North Wing bathroom had been broken, and no one in the school district cared enough to fix it. To most people this meant nothing, but to those boys it was a utopia waiting to be hotboxed.

Kyle pushed the bathroom door open to find Stan and Kenny leaning casually against the wall smoking cigarettes. He heard a flush as Cartman squeezed out of one of the stalls, followed by an unpleasant odor.

"Aw, dude," Kyle grumbled. "Did you have to do that in _this_ bathroom?"

"About time you got here, Jew," Cartman scoffed. "And please tell me you remembered to bring the pipe this time."

Kyle unzipped the front pouch of his backpack and pulled out his glass hash pipe. He handed it to Cartman, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag containing several green clusters.

"Dude, Kenny," Stan said as he pulled a silver herb grinder out of his pocket, "you need to get some more of that trainwreck shit from your bro. That stuff got me fucked up last weekend."

"I'm all out, man," Kenny shrugged. "But he did say that he bought it from a guy out here in South Park."

"You mean Trent?" Kyle asked. "I've never bought shit like that from him before, and he usually hooks me up pretty good."

Stan handed the grinder to Cartman, who delicately placed three small clusters inside. Twisting the top, he said, "I guess I could stop by his place and check it out. If he's selling t-wreck I'll buy like a pound of it." He carefully poured the thinly ground herb into his hand, and then into the bowl of Kyle's pipe. Bringing the small end of it to his lips, Cartman flicked his lighter and hovered the flame over the bowl. The potent plant hissed softly as it burned. Cartman passed the pipe to Kenny, throwing his head back to release a stream of milky white smoke.

The bathroom door creaked open and they fell awkwardly silent. They all turned nervously to see who had come in. Through the cloud of smoke appeared a short, rather thin boy. His hair was sloppily dyed black, and covered one of his eyes. The other eye stared at them sadly, the soft blue accentuated by heavy black eyeliner. He wore tight black jeans and a black AFI shirt.

"Don't worry fellas, just me," he laughed reassuringly. "I'm not gonna tattle on ya."

The boy turned to a mirror on the wall opposite them. He pulled out a black pencil to fix his eyeliner. Giving himself one last look up and down, he smiled to himself and walked out the door silently.

"Dude," Stan said, watching the boy leave, "is it me, or did Butters get really fucking weird over the summer?"

"He's always been weird, man," Kenny shrugged. "He's just weirder now."

"Come on, guys," said Kyle defensively. "His mom died in that accident last year, and everyone knows he hasn't been the same since. It's not really his fault."

Cartman rolled his eyes, as he always did when he knew Kyle was about to get preachy. "Whatever, dude. You can go have your little gay crush on him if you want, but I agree with these guys – he's a fucking freak."

Kyle sighed and rolled his eyes in frustration. "Dude, I'm not gay. We've had this argument like a million times already."

Stan, knowing that another screaming match was inevitable between those two, hastily changed the subject. "So Kenny," he said. "How bout that hot blonde last night, man?"

Kenny shrugged nonchalantly. "I guess I must've done something right, dude. She's a nice girl, and the sex was pretty good too. I don't know where she learned that reverse cowgirl shit, but _damn…_" He paused to pass the pipe to Kyle and accept a quick congratulatory high five from Cartman. "Anyway, I asked her to see me again, and she agreed to pick me up from work tonight, so we'll see where it goes from there."

Kyle, in the middle of a puff, burst into a fit of hysteric coughing. When he recovered he handed the pipe to Stan and choked, "Wait, you're gonna see her again?!"

"Kyle's right, dude," Cartman cut in. "You haven't had a girlfriend in three years. This is big news, man."

"Yeah, I know, huh?" Kenny laughed, a subtle blush in his cheeks. "I've been waiting for the right girl to come along, and, you know, I'm hoping this could be it."

Kyle had mixed feelings. On one hand he was disappointed. He had been optimistic that maybe he still had a chance with Charlie, but all that hope was gone now. At the same time, however, he wanted to be happy for Kenny. It had been almost three years since Kenny's last girlfriend had left him heartbroken and nearly suicidal, and Kyle still remembered hearing his friend swear that women were "backstabbing whores who took sadistic pleasure from making men suffer." He hoped that Kenny might at last find some peace, and yet he couldn't help feeling envious all the same.

Cartman noticed Kyle's discomfort, and decided to take the chance to exploit it to the fullest. "Kenny, man," he laughed, "I could here you guys all the way down the street. I swear to God, I wasn't sure if you were boning her or killing her."

Kenny, already feeling pretty buzzed, forced himself to shrug in response. "Yeah, I gotta do something about that. Sorry if I kept you awake last night, Kyle. Didn't know she was a screamer, man."

Kyle sighed heavily and headed for the door. "I need some air," he said curtly, pushing the door open and slipping out. Stan followed quickly behind him.

"Kyle, come on…"

"I'm sorry, dude," Kyle sighed, "but that was just way too much to swallow."

"Tell me about it," Stan laughed in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Look, you can't let this Charlie chick trip you out. This thing you have for her is completely superficial. Trust me, I've been there a few times myself. I guarantee that if you get to know her you'll find that you two have nothing in common."

Kyle forced a smile. "Maybe you're right."

"Besides," Stan smiled, patting his friend on the back reassuringly, "I'll do everything I can to help you forget about her, and find you a girl who's as unique as you are."

"By 'unique' you mean 'weird,'" Kyle laughed to himself.

Stan shrugged. "Well, yeah, I guess. But just trust me, okay?"

"Well, I guess it can't be any weirder than the time you guys tried to teach me to dance…"

* * *

_Rainbow colored lights flashed as the boys - at this time age 16 - entered the crowded rave party._

"_This is stupid," Cartman scoffed. "You're never gonna teach this Jew how to dance. Jews don't have any rhythm."_

"_Up yours, Sugartits!" Kyle snapped back._

"_Don't worry, Kyle," said Stan, reassuring as always. "This is the best place to learn how to dance."_

"_Hey," Cartman paused, looking around. "Where'd Kenny go?"_

_Kenny reappeared instantly and pushed something into Kyle's hand. "Here, man, try this," he said. "This is guaranteed to make you a good dancer."_

_Kyle looked down at the pink pill in the palm of his hand. There was a strange symbol etched on the front of it that he couldn't quite make out in the dim light._

"_What is it?" he asked._

"_Let's just call it 'Kenny's Happy Pill,'" Kenny laughed._

"_Um…okay…" Kyle threw back his head and gulped the pill down. He didn't feel any different – everything looked the same. He was tempted to take another pill, but decided it was best to wait for the first one to kick in._

_Stan pushed him toward the dance floor. "Come on, dude, let's see what you got." Confused, Kyle simply stood there, trying to figure out how to not make an idiot of himself. All around him rainbow lights flashed as dark silhouettes swayed to the music._

_But as the synth melody grew louder, Kyle began to feel different. He began to notice everything around him – the lights, the shadows, the thick salty air – only this time it all seemed bigger and more significant. He felt the rhythm taking control of his body, making him feel at one with the music. He didn't fight the feeling – it felt amazing. The music began to speed up, and his body followed, twisting and flowing in ways he didn't know he was capable of moving. A pair of glow-sticks fell on the floor, which he instinctively picked up. He twirled them slowly between his fingers and, once he got the feel of it down, elaborated by spinning them up and down, left and right._

_The other three watched him in awe, not quite sure how to react. Cartman finally broke the silence with a barely audible, "Dude."_

"_Dude," Stan laughed, "I gotta get me one of those pills."_

_Kenny reached quickly into his pocket and pulled out two more pink pills. "I'm way ahead of ya, man! I'm already feeling this shit."_

_Stan and Cartman each picked a pill out of Kenny's hand and tossed it back. As they began making their way to Kyle's spot on the dance floor, Kenny broke off from the group and said, "Dude, I'm thirsty as shit right now. Any of you guys want some water?"_

_Stan shrugged. "Nah, we're good, dude."_

_As they walked, Stan and Cartman also began to notice just how colorful the lights were, and felt the rhythm taking control of them as the music blared:_

The music is loud

The kids are so young

All over the world

They wanna have fun

The music's so loud

It drowns out the talk

All over the world

Just give us more rock

The music is loud

The night is so young

All over the world

We wanna have fun

The music gets louder

Please don't call the cops

All over the world

We just wanna rock

_As they reached the dance floor, they noticed that Kyle had already attracted a small crowd of girls. Stan and Cartman squeezed their way in, tossing flirtatious smiles at the girls along the way. They giggled back in response and followed closely behind them._

"_Dude," Cartman laughed to Stan as he put his arm around a petite redhead. "Kenny is totally missing out right now."_

_Stan, already sandwiched between two busty brunettes, nodded back enthusiastically. He turned to Kyle and nudged him to get his attention. "Dude," Stan yelled into Kyle's ear, "you are totally getting us all laid tonight! I owe you one, man."_

_Kyle gave his friend a quick thumbs up before turning back to the blond who was grinding her ass against his crotch. She turned around to face him, staring deep into his eyes. Feeling particularly daring, he pulled her into a passionate kiss. Her hands found his buttocks and squeezed them aggressively. It was then that he felt something poking him "down there" through his jeans and, realizing what it was, pushed her away from him and yelled, "What the fuck?!"_

* * *

Stan laughed. "Yeah, well, at least you found out _then._ I didn't figure it out till after those two brunettes took me back to their apartment. And that was fucking _awkward._"

"Well, anyway," Kyle sighed. "Bell's gonna ring any second now. Guess I'll catch you guys later?"

"Yeah, I got work, but hit me up anytime after 6."

"'Kay, peace."

With perfect timing the school bell rang through the hallways, signaling the end of lunch. Kyle slung his backpack over his left shoulder and casually headed down the corridor.

**Yes, I know this one took an eternity to put up. Honestly, though, this chapter was tricky for me – I had to rewrite it about 7 times. Anyway, the next chapter is pretty much compiled already, so it shouldn't take nearly as long.**

**Peace, Love, and All Things Rock,**

**Terra the Masterful**


	7. Garden of Weeden

**So glad finals are finally over! Now that the school year has ended, I have more time to create my works of literary genius. And now, the next installment of "Fenders and Hookah Pipes." Enjoy, bitches!**

** lbsenior: Yeah, I was gonna call it that originally, but scrapped it cuz I didn't want to risk being too cheesy. And I also kinda half-assed that chapter, since I wanted to get it done so fast. Anyway, hope this one is better and worth the wait.**

**Chapter Seven – Garden of Weed-en**

It was 2:55 when Kyle pulled his red Mustang in front of the Tweek Bros Coffee Shop. He had been working there for the past year and a half, and it was the most laid-back job any high school student could ask for. Since the place hardly ever had a rush, the baristas spent most of their shifts just hanging out.

The coffee shop was rather small, with only a few tables in the corner. Near the register stood a display filled with Mrs. Tweek's homemade pastries – one of the best perks of the job. A teenage girl stood nonchalantly at the counter, twirling a lock of her brown hair. She wore an emerald green shirt with a small white heart on her chest. When Kyle came through the door she perked up and smiled with delight.

"Kyle!" She dashed quickly around the counter and wrapped him in a tight hug.

"Hey, Rebecca," he laughed, patting her gently on the back. "Looks like you missed me."

She pulled back and smiled at him. "Of course I did. You have no idea how boring it is to work here alone all summer!"

"I think I have an idea."

"So, talk to me," she said as she made her way back to the register. "How was New York?"

"It was alright, I guess," he replied as he punched in his time card. "My cousin Jeremy goes to NYU, so he took me out to all these frat parties."

"Sounds fun."

"Well," he said, "turns out my cousin's in Alpha Pi Sigma, the national Jewish fraternity, and my mom asked me to introduce him to all the brothers. I guess she thinks I'm dying to join a fraternity once I start college."

"Well, are you?" Rebecca asked skeptically. "You really don't seem like the type to me."

"Dude, Rebecca," he laughed, "I don't even know which fucking school I'm going to yet! My dad's pushing me to go to law school, my mom's trying to recruit me for a Jewish frat, and I honestly have no interest in either one."

"Screw them," she scoffed. "I stopped giving a shit about winning my parents' approval years ago. It's your decision, not theirs, so do whatever makes you happy."

Kyle was just about to explain to her that he had no idea what he wanted to do with his life when the door jingled. In walked Charlie Jameson, wearing a tight black top with "Dance" written in green and white letters and matching black and green pants. She slid her gym back off her shoulder and smiled at Kyle.

"Hey, Kyle," she said. "I didn't know you worked here."

He froze, having no idea what to say in return. "Uh…hi, Charlie."

"So, what's good here? I have an audition in 20 minutes and I could really use a pick-me-up."

Kyle, now with a deep blush in his cheeks, struggled to think of something to say. "Um…well, okay…uh…"

Rebecca cut in just in time to save him. "Our most popular is the raspberry mocha."

"Uh…yeah…" he stuttered. "That's one's definitely the breast. Oh! I-I-I mean, best."

"Okay," Charlie nodded, "I guess I'll try that."

Rebecca rang up the order and bustled through the kitchen, aware that Kyle was too nervous to function. "By the way," she whispered to him when Charlie had her back turned, "try not to stare at her chest when you talk to her."

"There you go," Rebecca smiled as she handed the warm beverage to Charlie. "Have a nice day."

"And, uh, good luck at your audition," Kyle cut in as she started for the door.

Charlie turned back to Kyle and smiled, "Thanks." That would have been enough to make him dizzy if Rebecca wasn't there to support him.

After she left, Kyle let out a big sigh. He was relieved that the pressure was finally off him, but also embarrassed at the one little Freudian slip of his.

Rebecca's eyes ran up and down him as her lips parted into a sly grin. "Looks like little Kyle's got himself a crush. How cute."

"I don't wanna talk about it," he sighed.

"Aw, what?" Rebecca answered defensively. "I think it's adorable, seeing you get all weak in the knees like that. You like her, and you have no idea what to do about it."

"I wish it were that simple," he grumbled. "She hooked up with Kenny the other night and now he thinks he's in love with her. I mean, I'd feel like a dick to try and come between them, but when I look at her…I can't help it, I guess."

"Look," she said, "the way I see it, everything happens for a reason. If you're really meant to be with that girl, fate will lead you to her."

* * *

Stan walked nonchalantly through the front door with Wendy at his side. He dropped his backpack at the door and kicked off his shoes. He nodded to his dad in acknowledgement.

"Hey, Dad."

"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey, Staaaaaaaaaaaaaan," Randy replied, laughing to himself as his eyes fixed on the television.

Stan paused. For a moment he thought he detected the faint smell of some freshly lit ganja, but shrugged it off. Just then his mother came in from the kitchen, a stern look on her face. Stan knew he was in trouble for something, but kept his mouth shut.

Sharon noticed her son's girlfriend and softened her demeanor a bit. Over the past year she had taken a liking to Wendy and was well aware of how close she and Stan had become. For this reason she decided to save her son the humiliation of being punished in front of her.

"Stanley," she said sternly, "a word with you in the kitchen please."

Stan gave Wendy a quick peck on the cheek and followed his mother into the kitchen. He looked her up and down curiously, trying to figure out what he was in trouble for, and more importantly, how he would lie his way out of it.

Sharon reached behind her and picked up a glass bong. It was a basic design with a small green bowl sticking out of the base. The water inside it was tainted with black flakes of ash swirling around. She held the bong up to eye level and stared deep into her son's eyes.

"I found this when I was cleaning your room today, Stanley. Care to offer an explanation?"

Thinking quickly, he quipped, "Oh, yeah, I'm actually glad you found that, Mom. Cartman told me that he left it here last night."

"Stanley," Sharon rebutted, "I think it's very unlikely that Eric's mother would allow him to own such paraphernalia."

Stan could help laughing at that one. "You're kidding, right?"

Sharon paused. She knew the Cartmans almost as well as her son did, so she knew he was probably right. "Touché," she conceded, "but you tell Eric that if he wants this…_thing_ back, he's going to have a little talk with me first."

Meanwhile, Wendy sat on the couch next to Randy. Something about him seemed…different to her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, except that he appeared to have somehow detached himself from everything else around him, and was deeply focused on whatever was on the TV. It was then she noticed Stan's grandfather slowly wheeling he way in her direction, a hungry look in his eyes.

"So," he said, "you're that hot piece of ass who's been nailing my grandson, eh?"

Wendy paused. "Excuse me?"

"It's…uh…dammit…uh…Sandy, right?"

"Actually, it's Wendy."

"Dad," Randy grumbled, not bothering to look at them, "leave her alone, okay?"

"What?" the old man replied defensively. "I'm just applauding Billy on his good taste in women. If I were sixty years younger and didn't have arthritis in my hip, I'd be pounding chicks like Sandy here day and night."

Stan arrived from the kitchen just in time to save Wendy from further awkwardness. He wrapped his arm around her and led her upstairs.

"Make our family proud, Billy!" his grandpa called up to him. "Bang her till she bleeds!"

"Shut up, Grandpa," he yelled back.

At that moment a knock came from the front door. Sharon opened it to find Eric Cartman standing on her doorstep. He adjusted his maroon letterman jacket and smiled warmly at her.

"Hello, Mrs. Marsh," he said. "I hate to bother you, but I believe I left something here the other night."

_Stan was right,_ she thought to herself. _I thought he was just lying to save his own ass, but that bong must've been Eric's after all._ "Well, um…come on in, I suppose."

Cartman walked into the living room and began peering under the coffee table and between the cushions of the couch. "Damn," he muttered loudly. "I hope it's here. I don't think my mom will buy me another, especially after I already lost the first two she bought me."

"So, um, Eric," she said uneasily, "what exactly is this _thing_ you're looking for?"

"You know, it's funny," he laughed. "You never realize just how much you use something until you lose it and try to go a day without it. It's been frustrating the hell outta me."

"Well, Eric," Sharon began in her motherly tone, "I don't think you should be owning such an object. You see, there are a lot of health risks associated with that kind of thing, and I think you should be spending your time doing other things instead."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Marsh," he laughed, "the health risks are only minor, and won't really affect me for years. Besides, this thing is a necessity for me now. I can't live without it. It's like a part of me, you know?"

Sharon sighed. "I suppose. Well, I have to go run some errands. If you still can't find what you're looking for, maybe you should talk to Stan about it."

"Hmm, good idea." Cartman marched upstairs to Stan's room, as Sharon stared up at him in complete confusion.

* * *

Meanwhile, in Stan's room, Wendy was on her back gazing up at her lover. He gently slid off her panties and made his way down to her waist.

"Stan," she giggled and she stared at him, "what are you doing?"

"Well," he smiled, "I wanted to thank you for the other night."

"You don't have to repay me," she smiled. "I'd been wanting to do that for a while. I just waited until then so it could be special."

He gazed deeply into her eyes. "It would've been special any day of the year." He gave her stomach a kiss before parting her thighs and slipping his face between them.

Wendy giggled in anticipation. The moment the slippery tip of his tongue slid over that one right spot she let out a soft moan, beckoning him to continue. He moved his tongue in small circles teasingly around that spot, making her want it even more. Pulling away quickly, Stan slid his hand between her thighs and jammed his middle finger deep inside her. He wiggled it around to tease her more before sliding it out and then back in again. As his movement was getting faster – and his fingers stickier – a rude knock at the door made them both pause.

"Dude, it's Cartman! Open up!"

"What is it?" Stan called back.

"I lost my cell phone last night. Come out here and help me find it, fucker!"

Stan sighed. "I'm busy, okay? Come back later."

He heard a loud scoff and snickering from behind the door. "You're fucking Wendy, aren't you?"

"Dude, go away!"

"Damn it, Stan," Cartman sighed impatiently, "I think you can pull it out for like ten fucking minutes, okay?"

Stan grumbled bitterly to himself as he slid off the bed. A disappointed Wendy slid her panties and jeans back on. He checked quickly to make sure she was covered before swinging the door open violently.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snarled at Cartman.

"Bros Before Hoes, dude," Cartman countered. "You've said it yourself many times over."

"Okay," Stan sighed. "So, what, you left your phone here last night? Dude, just come get it later."

"I can't," Cartman argued. "I only got an hour before the wrestling team's first meeting, and I gotta be there to break the scrubs in."

"Fine, we'll help you find your precious fucking phone," Stan grumbled. He nodded his head at Wendy, signaling her to come with them.

As they made their way downstairs, they noticed Stan's dad and grandpa both deeply consumed by the dancing puppets on TV.

"Uh, Dad?" Stan asked. "Are you guys watching 'Fraggle Rock'?"

"Yeah, it's fascinating," Randy Marsh replied in a deep, relaxed voice. "You know, it reminds me a lot of the Socratic philosophy I read in college."

"Uh, what?"

"Like, think about it," Randy continued. "See, the Fraggles only live in that one area, so that's like the only reality they know. And, you know, they're afraid to venture beyond that reality, because maybe it might disprove everything they accept to be true. But Gobo and his friends are the only ones who dare to challenge that notion of reality, so when they see what's beyond Fraggle Rock, they are like the 'enlightened' ones, or something like that."

"Dad," Stan sighed, "are you actually trying to compare 'Fraggle Rock' to 'The Simile of the Cave'?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You know, I've never looked at it that way before," said Cartman curiously as he sat on the couch next to Randy.

"So," said Randy, "what are you kids up to?"

"We're trying to help Fucktard here find his cell phone," Stan grumbled.

"Try calling it and I'll try to follow the sound," Cartman suggested, peering around the couch.

Stan pulled his phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. He scrolled down before finding the entry for Cartman. As soon as he called the number, an electronic version of "Flying High Again" chimed from underneath the couch. Cartman crawled on all fours to the source of the sound, his large derriere pointed in Wendy and Stan's direction.

"Don't look directly into it," Stan muttered. "Wouldn't want to get sucked in."

"Up yours, pretty boy," Cartman snapped. He was about to back his way out when he paused. "Hey, what's this?" He stood up, holding a plastic bag with three large green clusters.

"Huh," Cartman shrugged, "I guess I left this here too."

"Actually," Randy cut in, "that's mine. Thanks for finding it Eric, I was starting to lose my buzz. How you feeling, Dad?"

"I'm hungry," he grumbled in response. "Where's Sharon? Tell that bitch to cook us up some sloppy joe's."

Stan raised an eyebrow in confusion. Granted, he had smelled it when he came in, but this didn't make sense at all. "Dad, what the hell is going on?"

Randy's glazed eyes met Stan's, and his expression turned extremely serious. "Come with me, son. There's something you should know…"

* * *

"You remember last year when your grandpa got diagnosed with glaucoma?" Randy asked as he led the three teenagers down the basement stairs. The room was dark and cool, and they saw nothing special about it.

"Yeah," Stan replied. "So, why are we in the basement?"

"You see, Stan," Randy explained, "a lot of scientific breakthroughs have come out in the past few years, showing that marijuana can be an effective treatment for certain illnesses, glaucoma being one of them."

He flicked the lights on. "Behold." Illuminated beneath them were a series of tables, each one covered with tall green plants. Not an inch of floor was visible beneath the field of green. They didn't look like anything unusual, at least until Stan recognized the seven-pointed leaves.

"Dad," he exclaimed, "you're growing weed in our basement?! Where did you get all this?"

Randy laughed nonchalantly. "Relax, Stan, it's all perfectly legal. Marijuana may still be illegal according to federal law, but states have been passing their own laws to loosen restrictions on it. In fact, the use of weed for medicinal purposes has become so popular that stores have opened up to sell it legally to patients with a prescription for it. It's been going on in California for quite some time, and a store recently opened in Denver. All we had to do was get a prescription for your grandpa, and we can buy all the pot we want without breaking any laws."

"Whoa whoa whoa…" Cartman cut in, "say that last part again?"

"We can buy all the pot we want without breaking any laws," Randy repeated.

Cartman's face lit up, his eyes sparkling with ambition. "You guys, this is like the greatest thing ever! Oh God, I need to get to Kenny's house right away. See you later!" With that he dashed back up the stairs and out the door, leaving Stan and Wendy to their own confusion.

Randy broke the awkward silence. "So, you kids wanna try some of this? It packs a punch, but I'm sure you can handle it."

"Even if I did," Stan grumbled, "Mom took my bong."

"Oh, yeah, I remember now. Come on, I think she hid it in that cupboard in our bedroom." He led Stan and Wendy out of the basement and up the stairs to the master bedroom. Randy motioned for them to wait, and returned shortly with Stan's prized possession.

"Funny thing," Randy chuckled, "there were about twenty opened packs of cigarettes in there too. Yours, I presume?"

Stan nodded. Randy pulled a cigarette out of one of the packs and handed the rest to Stan. "Here," he said, "have one. You're eighteen now, right?"

Stan paused, his hand suspended above the cigarette pack. As he pulled one out and reached for his lighter, he whispered to Wendy, "God, my family is so fucked up."

"Trust me," she whispered back reassuringly, "it could be so much worse."

"I guess," he sighed. "Wonder what Cartman needed to go to Kenny's for…"

**Well, you'll have to wait to find out, won't you? I wasn't expecting this chapter to be as long as it was – just too much shit to say, I guess. It doesn't help that I have a job and my boyfriend keeps whisking me away to Los Angeles. Anyway, stay tuned for Chapter Eight – The Kings Are Crowned.**

**Peace, Love, and All Things Rock,**

**Terra the Masterful**


	8. The Kings Are Crowned

**Now that my boyfriend's back in summer school, I have a little more time to focus on my literary genius. I see Chapter Eight beckoning over the horizon…**

** Call Me Blue Streak: As always, thanks for showing your love.**

**Chapter Eight – The Kings Are Crowned**

A silver Toyota Celica pulled into the McCormicks' driveway at about 6:30 that evening. Charlie put the car into park and turned to Kenny, who was smiling eagerly at her.

"Okay," she said, "well…see ya later, I guess."

Kenny paused. "You don't wanna come inside?"

"I wasn't really planning on it, no."

"Come on," he pleaded. "I bet my parents are dying to meet you."

"Your parents?" she asked skeptically. "Kenny, you just met _me_ less than twenty-four hours ago."

"So?"

"So," she replied, trying to be as nice as she could, "don't you think this is all going a little too fast?"

Kenny paused for a moment to think about that. He looked up at her and answered, "Well, is that what you think?"

Charlie sighed softly. "Look Kenny, what happened between us last night was really…unorthodox for me. I usually don't sleep with someone after knowing them for only a couple hours. And even if I do, I'm usually not looking to throw myself into a relationship with them immediately after. I mean, I'm still trying to get used to this place, and it's just way too soon for me to be getting involved with someone. I think you're really sweet Kenny, and I'd like to keep seeing you. I just need you to be patient with me, okay?"

"I guess," he replied, his voice heavy with disappointment. "So, when do I get to see you again?"

"Well," she said, trying to sound optimistic, "we got that pep rally next week. You'll definitely see me there. But knowing Wendy and Stan, I'll probably see you before then."

Kenny allowed himself a subtle half-smile. "Okay. I guess I'll see you around then?"

"Sure," she smiled back.

Satisfied, Kenny slung his backpack over his shoulder, gave Charlie a quick kiss, and slid out of the car. He walked to the front door, pausing quickly to wave to her over his shoulder. As she drove away, he pondered what she had said. Was he getting his hopes too high? He had tasted disappointment in the past, and knew all too well that it wasn't a pleasant flavor. _Just be patient_, he reassured himself. _She'll come around sooner or later._

He pulled open the screen door, careful not to pull it off its only hinge. Tossing his backpack by the doorway, he noticed Stuart McCormick had already settled into his spot on the couch in front of the small black-and-white TV set, a glass of gin on the rocks in his hand.

"Kenny!" he yelled heartily as he saw his son. "Get yer ass over here boy, and have a drink wit yer old man!"

"Not now, Dad," Kenny chuckled. "I got some shit to do."

"Come on, boy, don't bullshit me!" he said as he began filling a second glass. "I know how much you hate that shitty job 'a yers. Now sit down and have a drink."

"Eh, whatever," Kenny sighed, plopping down next to his dad on the couch. Stuart handed him the glass and gave him a quick once-over. "So, what ya been up to, boy?"

"Like you said, my shitty job," Kenny answered as he sipped his gin. "I swear, if I ever quit that place, I'm gonna kick Whiskey Pete square in the balls in front of everyone."

"Well, why don't ya quit if ya hate it so damn much?"

"It's my only source of income, Dad," he replied. "I can't quit unless I have another job available. And so far, I haven't had any luck."

Stuart shrugged. "Ya can't expect somethin' to just happen for ya outta the blue, boy. Ya gotta have some patience."

"Yeah, patience," Kenny sighed. "I've heard that before."

* * *

At roughly 6:45, Cartman's black SUV pulled into the McCormicks' driveway. Cartman jumped out and ran to the door. He banged loudly on it until Stuart opened it.

"Yes? What the hell do ya want?"

"Hey, Mr. McCormick. Is Kenny home?"

"Uh, yeah, come in."

Cartman squeezed through the narrow doorway. He tried to think of some clever way to insult their economic conditions, but over the years – with Kenny working and his brother out of the house – the McCormicks' lifestyle had somewhat improved. Granted, they were still on welfare, but so was half of South Park.

Cartman heard loud music coming from down the hallway, and followed the sound.

_Hear my cries, hear my calls  
Lend me your ears, see my fall  
See my errors, know my faults  
Time halts, see my loss  
Know I'm lacking, backtracking  
Where I met you, pistol packing  
Itchy finger, trigger happy  
Try to trap me, bad rap  
Wiretap me, backstab me  
Break the faith, fall from grace  
Tell me lies, time flies, close your eyes  
Come with me_

Cartman banged on Kenny's door as loud as he could. "KENNY!"

A reluctant, shirtless Kenny greeted him with a less-than-thrilled expression. "What the hell? Dude, I was in the middle of beating o-…on my punching bag. Working off stress and shit."

Cartman scoffed. "Yeah, that's not all you were beating, I bet."

"What do you want, bitch?" Kenny grumbled.

Cartman looked deep into his eyes, his expression deadly serious. "Kenny, I have discovered a way that will ensure that Kyle loses the bet. It's genius."

"What you gonna do, castrate him?" Kenny chuckled.

"Nah, it's tempting, but too messy," Cartman shrugged. "Tell me Kenny, what's the one thing Kyle has that I don't? The one thing women love more than anything?"

"Um, intelligence?"

"No."

"Looks?"

"No."

"Sense of humor?"

"No."

"Sense of fashion?"

"No."

"Respect for women?"

"No."

"Tolerance of other cultures?"

"No."

"A personality?"

"No."

"Pubic hair?"

"Dammit, why did I ever tell you guys about that!"

Kenny sighed. "Okay, asshole, I give up."

"Hold on, Kenny, let's try a different approach." Cartman took a deep breath and said, "Okay, what's the one thing Kyle has that _you and I_ don't?"

"Oh, that's easy," Kenny replied. "Money."

"Exactly!" Cartman exclaimed. "And I have a plan to make me so rich that no chick in this town can possibly resist me!"

"What you gonna do?"

Cartman pulled a large plastic bag filled with large green clusters out of his backpack and held it up to Kenny's face. "Sell weed."

"Dude!" Kenny shouted. "Where the hell did you get all that shit?!"

"It's complicated," Cartman replied. "But I found a guy in South Park who can provide an unlimited supply of ganja for extremely cheap. And Kenny, I want _you_ to be my business partner."

Kenny hesitated. "Dude, this seems kinda shady. I don't know if I should get involved…"

"Kenny, think about it," Cartman replied. "Do you really wanna be stuck working at Whiskey Pete's until you graduate? You barely make any money at that shithole, right?"

"Dude, I've been overdue for a raise for like seven months now," Kenny grumbled.

"Well, selling weed is _big_ profit. I paid my grower fifteen bucks for this bag, and all this shit has gotta be worth at least three thousand. Go into business with me Kenny, and not only can you tell Whiskey Pete to kiss your ass, you can have that car you've been wanting in a matter of weeks."

Kenny paused. "Shit dude, that's a lot of money."

"Yes," Cartman answered. "And it can be yours."

"Dude," Kenny chuckled. "I can't wait to see the look on Whiskey Pete's face when I give him a hard kick in the pills tomorrow."

Cartman's face lit up with delight like a child at Christmas. "You're in?"

"I'm in."

Cartman heartily shook Kenny's hand. "Kenny, today we build our marijuana empire. We cease to be just Cartman and Kenny, normal students at Five Parks High. We stand together, and together we are, The Cannibis Kings!"

"The Cannibis Kings?" said Kenny skeptically. "You couldn't come up with something more discrete than that?"

"Kenny listen, when you start a business, you need to establish yourselves in the public eye. If we call ourselves The Cannibis Kings, everyone knows what's up. They know what they're shopping for, you know?"

"Um…okay…"

"Trust me dude," Cartman said reassuringly. "This is going to be the greatest thing to ever happen to us."

**Well, there you have it – Cartman and Kenny are in business! But can they get it off the ground? And what about the competition? And most of all, will this actually get Cartman laid? All this and more as "Fenders and Hookah Pipes" continues!**


	9. Stick It To the Man

**I figure I'd better get started on Chapter Nine before my procrastination kicks in again. That and all the complicated shit with my apartment. Anyway, when we last left the boys, Cartman and Kenny were starting up a marijuana business. And Kenny was about to give his boss a piece of his mind…**

**Chapter Nine – Stick It To The Man**

The next day after school, the boys settled into their booth at Whiskey Pete's Bar and Grill. They usually stopped at that place with the expectation that Kenny would hook them up with free – or at least cheaper – munchies. This time, however, after hearing Kenny ramble all day about what sweet revenge he planned to get on his boss, they decided to bring some extra cash. As Stan lit up a cigarette, he felt a light tap on his shoulder.

Kenny stared deep into his eyes, his facial expression extremely serious. "In accordance with Colorado Department of Health Code 1741 I'm obligated to inform you that this is a non-smoking establishment."

"Eat shit," Stan laughed, giving him the finger.

Kenny laughed along with him. "You really think I give a fuck what you nigs do here? I've been spitting in people's food for the past hour already."

"So Kenny," Cartman cut in, "when do we get to see this little scheme of yours?"

"I gotta wait for my boys, but they should be here any min-" He was cut off by the loud buzz of his phone. He flipped it open, scanned the screen, and slipped it back in his pocket. "Perfect, they just pulled in. Okay, you guys just wait right here and enjoy the fireworks." He gave them a quick double thumbs up before turning to a table in the middle of the room and wiping it down with a rag.

At that moment, a short round man with a prickly beard approached him. No doubt this was Whiskey Pete himself – or Mr. O'Neil as he insisted on being called by his employees – and he did not look at all happy to see Kenny.

"McCormick!" he barked in a commanding voice that resonated throughout the room. "I gotta bone to pick with your lazy punk ass! When are these tables actually gonna get cleaned?"

Kenny paused. He looked as if he were contemplating whether or not to kick the fat man's ass. Instead he cleared his throat, straightened his black hoodie and turned to Whiskey Pete.

"Of course, Mr. O'Neil, sir," he said warmly, a smirk spreading across his face. "I promise you, I will get right on that as soon as I pull my cock out of your daughter's ass." He nonchalantly turned back to the table and resumed wiping it.

It was then that Whiskey Pete, his face so red it looked ready to burst into flames, grabbed Kenny by the shoulder and spun him around.

"What in God's name did you just say to me boy?" Whiskey Pete snarled.

"About cleaning the tables," Kenny asked innocently, "or about me sticking my dick in your little girl?"

Whiskey Pete drew his arm back swung, landing a hard punch on Kenny's jaw. It was enough to make his head spin, but not enough to cause him any real pain. He slowly turned back to face Whiskey Pete, and when their eyes met he started to laugh. He held up his right hand and snapped his fingers. Just then, two large African-American men marched over to Whiskey Pete and grabbed both of his arms with enough force to knock him off his feet. As Whiskey Pete stared up at him in confusion, Kenny's blue eyes glowed wildly, with an animalistic twinkle that reminded him of a lion stalking its prey.

"I believe you've already met my friends, Peter, but allow me to reintroduce y'all. This here is T-Bone and Tyrel. They work in the kitchen during the weekends, and happen to live on the same street as me. And, just like me, they are getting pretty fucking fed up with all the bullshit you give us here."

"You're not going to get away with this, you white trash punk!" Whiskey Pete snapped.

"_Au contraire, mon ami_," Kenny laughed. "You know as well as I do that half this fucking town would shit their pants if I ever went postal on their asses. Here," he reached into his pocket and handed his cell phone to Whiskey Pete. "Do me a favor Peter, and give good old Barbrady a call. Go on. Call his Pilsbury Dough Boy ass up."

Tyrel loosened his grip on Whiskey Pete's arm just enough to allow him to hold the phone to his ear. The phone rang twice before a voice on the other end said, "South Park Police, this is Barbrady."

"Barbrady, it's Whiskey Pete," he choked, his voice trembling slightly.

"Tell him Kenny McCormick is up in your shit," Kenny laughed.

"Listen," Whiskey Pete continued, "I have a slight problem. Kenny McCormick is causing a disturb-"

"Kenny McCormick?" Barbrady cut in. "No way, Jose. Last time it took seven officers from Park County and three tranquilizer darts to bring that kid down. You're on your own, buddy. Okay, you have a nice day. Bye-bye now." With that Barbrady hung up.

Kenny's eyes twinkled with delight. The expression on his face said "Fuck you" more boldly than spoken words ever could. He snatched his phone out of Whiskey Pete's hand, slid it back into his pocket, and leaned in so close that their noses almost touched.

"What did I tell you Peter? Your fat ass is fried chicken now, motherfucker." He laughed in delight. Whiskey Pete's fear began to show across his plump face.

"Wha- What are you going to do to me?" he stuttered.

"Only what I feel justified enough to do," Kenny replied as he strolled over to the main counter and opened the drawer of the cash register. "You know Peter, I remember about six or seven months ago you promised me a raise. Well, you wanna know something _really_ funny? I never got a goddamn dime of that money from your fat ass. Plus you also made me work double shifts on the weekends when I _specifically_ requested to have Sundays off. Doesn't that just beat all?" he laughed sarcastically as he pulled stacks of bills out of the drawer and thumbed through them. "Let's see…you got about eight hundred dollars in here, Peter. Obviously business has been good for you. Now, I think four hundred should be enough to cover what you owe me. And I'm just gonna go ahead and take two hundred each for T-Bone and Tyrel here, since they've both got families to feed. That okay with you Peter?" He counted out the bills, shoved a giant stack into his back pocket, and handed two smaller stacks to T-Bone and Tyrel, who were more than glad to accept.

Kenny turned his gaze back to Whiskey Pete. "Bet it feels pretty fucking good to be rich, huh motherfucker? Climbing to the top by stepping on the skulls of the weak. But hey, that's the American way, isn't it? The only way anyone can move up is by pushing everyone else's ass down into the mud and hoping they never have the means nor the will to fight back. So let me ask you something Peter, and I want you to think long and hard about this before you answer…" He leaned in close to Whiskey Pete, staring deep into the man's eyes as if he were to reach the core of his soul.

"The day will come when a hand rises out of the mud, grabs you by the ankle and pulls you under. That hand will be mine, Peter, and I will use your ankle to pull myself up and to pull you down. Tell me Peter, when that day comes, when you and I stand side by side covered in mud, will you still have the fucking balls to call me a white trash punk?"

Whiskey Pete was silent. He wanted to yell at Kenny, call him every name in the book, but his words remained frozen in his throat. Many people would think his silence came out of fear – it was a fact that half of Park County was afraid of invoking Kenny McCormick's vengeful and sometimes violent wrath. His three friends, however, sitting in their booth watching from across the room, knew the truth. They knew that deep in his soul Whiskey Pete, no matter how much hatred he felt for Kenny, could not deny the power of his words. This was one of those rare moments when Kenny – who had always held a reputation for passive-aggressive silence – had said something so right on that even people who despised him could not find the words to refute him.

Kenny noticed his friends watching and stood back up. "I almost forgot about my friends over there." He waved to them, as they timidly waved back. "They've been here for a while, and I'm sure they're very hungry. Peter, would you be so kind as to take their order and get them whatever they want? Oh, and I don't think they brought any money, so could you pick up the tab for them too?" Whiskey Pete nodded, his expression completely numb. "Thanks Peter, I really appreciate that," Kenny smiled warmly as he took a seat next to Cartman.

T-Bone and Tyrel released their grip on Whiskey Pete and marched toward the door. "Yo Kenny," T-Bone called back to him, "we're heading out. You need a ride?"

"Nah, I'm good," Kenny replied. "Thanks, though. Catch you guys later?"

"You know it." T-Bone and Tyrel each made a strange hand gesture. Kenny responded with the same sign before they disappeared out the door.

"Nice guys," he said, turning his attention back to his friends.

"Okay Kenny, lemme just get this straight," Stan said. "You just robbed this guy, and now he's going to give us free food?"

"If he doesn't wanna lose the skin off his ass he will," Kenny replied. "And guys, I don't know about you, but I'm going to be getting like three things to go. I think it's safe to assume I won't be welcome back here for a while."

"You know," Kyle grumbled, "I'm really not feeling all that hungry right now."

Cartman reached into the pocket of his letterman jacket and pulled out a small plastic bag. "Here," he said, handing it across the table to Kyle, "this should give you the munchies pretty quick."

Kyle turned the bag over and noticed a white sticker label in the center of the bag. In thick green letters it read "The Cannabis Kings: Hookin' Niggas Up With That Dank-Ass Chronic Since 2007." He rolled his eyes, but it was then he noticed a photograph clipping glued next to the label.

"Wait a sec," he muttered. "Is this from that picture of me from last summer's camping trip?"

Sure enough, it was Kyle's own face staring back at him. The boy in the picture wore a big goofy grin that matched his bloodshot eyes. He was looking over his shoulder and giving a thumbs up to the camera. On top of his head they had glued a paper cutout of a crown drawn in black Sharpie.

"Dude," Stan laughed, "that _is_ you! God, you were so fucked up in that picture!"

Kyle turned to Cartman and sighed. "Cartman, dare I ask why my picture is on this?"

"Actually, I'm glad you asked, Kyle," Cartman smirked. "You see, I have selected _you_ to receive the honorary distinction of being the new face of The Cannabis Kings."

"The what?"

"The Cannabis Kings. See, the other night I found a local grower who could hook me up with all the pot I could ever need, and I had a vision. I shared that vision with Kenny, and we built the foundations of our new business. We spent the entire lunch period handing out samples today, and word spreads fast in this small town. Pretty soon we hope to become the biggest weed dealers in all of South Park."

Stan cut in, "Whoa, wait – did you get this from my dad?"

"Two pounds for only fifteen bucks!" Cartman boasted. "Old man said he didn't even care about the money."

Kyle turned to Stan. "Your dad is selling weed?"

"No, no, my dad is_not_ selling weed," he protested. "He's just been growing some medical marijuana for my grandpa's glaucoma."

"I'm telling you Kyle," Cartman cut in, "Stan's dad is fucking loaded. He's got surplus out the ass. And the best part is, it's all perfectly legal."

"No," Kyle grumbled. "No Cartman, it isn't."

"Wha- wh-…of course it is!"

"Just because it's legal for Stan's dad to grow weed doesn't make it legal for you to sell it, retard!" Kyle retorted.

Cartman put up his hands defensively and laughed. "Oh, look out you guys! Mr. Self-Righteous here doesn't want us to break the law! Cut the bullshit, Kyle. Everyone knows you're the biggest pot smoker in all of South Park." Cartman paused, reflecting on what he had just said. "Although," he pondered, "this could be a good thing for both of us…"

Kyle rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about, fuckhead?"

"I want you to smoke my weed, Kyle," Cartman stated. "Smoke that whole twenty sack this weekend. Smoke that ganja, and if it doesn't meet your standards, I won't sell it. But I'm warning you – that's some strong homegrown sticky-icky."

"Fine," Kyle grumbled. He hated to give Cartman the satisfaction of "I told you so," but to turn down a free twenty sack of high quality marijuana would be sheer stupidity. He held the bag up to the light, examining its contents. The green herb inside glistened as the tiny crystals reflected in the sunlight. Small orange-brown hairs poked out from the dark green clusters. Even Kyle had to admit – this marijuana would definitely pack a punch.

"Stan and I will burn through it this weekend," he said as he shoved the bag into his pocket. "But I'm still not letting you use my picture on your bags of weed."

"Well what the hell am I supposed to do?" Cartman whined. "I don't have any good photos of myself to use. And believe me, that picture represents exactly how fucked up this shit will get you."

"Hey, Peter!" Kenny hollered toward the back of the room. "How about a little service for your VIPs up in this piece of shit?"

"You want service, kid?"

Whiskey Pete appeared just then, armed with a shotgun. He held it steady as he stared down the barrel right at Kenny's head.

"I got some service for your punk ass right here!"

He fired a shot, missing Kenny's head by only a few inches. It only took one glance from Kenny to let them know that they should get out of there fast. They scrambled out the door and ran to their parked cars. But Kenny stopped at the door and turned to Whiskey Pete. Kenny's icy blue eyes met his, challenging him to make a move.

"Someday, motherfucker," he whispered. He made a high grabbing motion with his left hand, slowly lowering his fist to eye level. "Right up outta the fucking mud." He took two seconds to quickly flip off the fat man before disappearing out the door.

Stan's beige Jeep peeled out of the parking lot as Kyle's Mustang followed. Kenny pulled open the door of the black SUV waiting by the entrance and jumped in. As Cartman sped off, he laughed, "I guess this means no free food, then?"

"Yeah," Kenny shrugged. "I knew it was too good to be true. Come on, let's go to Chili's or something. You'd better pay, cuz I don't think I'm gonna be picking up my paycheck anytime soon."

"Tell me one thing, though," Cartman said as he headed down the road. "Did you really nail that guy's daughter?"

Kenny burst out laughing. "Fuck no! Are you kidding? I could use her face to sand wood in shop class!"

"Well," Cartman shrugged, "this is Kenny McCormick we're talking about here, so anything's possible."

"Hey dude," Kenny perked up, "I just got an idea. You know, if we really wanna make bank with this weed business, we really gotta advertise, and I mean doing more than just handing out samples left and right. We should make, like, a TV commercial or something."

Cartman thought that one out for a second, and replied, "How are we supposed to do that? No one's going to broadcast a marijuana ad."

"True," Kenny nodded, "but what if we hack into the TV station's programming? My buddy Nick did it once just for the fuck of it. We could, like, sabotage the network just long enough to make our commercial."

"You know," Cartman pondered, "that might not be such a stupid idea after all. Okay Kenny, this Saturday be at my house at two, and bring that Nick guy with you. I'll make some phone calls, get everything set up, and before we know it, The Cannabis Kings will be a household name."

**Go ahead and bitch at me for taking so long to get this up – I can take it, believe me. This area of the story is one of those parts where it's hard to transition from one event to another. Plus my boyfriend is always around demanding sex from me, so I have to wait until he's asleep or in class to write. But yeah, next chapter you get to see Cartman and Kenny launch their (illegal) commercial. Stay tuned.**

**Peace, Love, and All Things Rock,**

**Terra the Masterful**


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